The Bloody Doors Off

My default is to be funny.

Since I was a kid. To mask the pain I felt watching my parents go through a particularly acrimonious divorce.

To say I put shields up is a slight misstatement. They were titanium. And in my teenage years there was only one person who got through, because I’d fooled myself that if I just stuck it out, proved what a great guy I was, she’d take an interest.

And then the walls went back up, and didn’t start cracking until my 30s.

I may have the math wrong (and Marlo will correct me if I do), but almost six years ago the walls buckled and collapsed. Oh, it took a few months.

I’m glad she stuck it out. (Artistic license. But the sentiment is real.)

I could write a few paragraphs as to why she is my north star; Marlo’s never-ending faith in me, her bottomless well of love. That we both will joke “it’s just a little fart” as we’re both at our desks, working away.

How our interests intersect. How we both loved The F Word, even though it clearly bombed at the box office. Philomena Cunk.

The way she’ll get the slightest bit embarrassed because I blasted this post across Facebook and Twitter.

I love you, honey.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Photo Credit: Dahlia Katz.